


Meet the Baker

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1699109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A traditional coffee shop AU, which has all the usual clichés</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet the Baker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1electricpirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1electricpirate/gifts).



> Written as a birthday present.
> 
> About as sickly sweet as some of the cakes in the café

Mrs Hudson approached the fair haired man sitting at the table in the corner. He looked like an ex-soldier, she’d seen a good few in the time she’d owned the cafe, making his mug of tea last as long as possible whilst he read the newspaper.

“I know it’s an imposition,” she began, “but I was wondering whether you might have a few hours to spare of an afternoon, to help clear the tables for me. It can get very busy when the students are in, and I find it so hard to serve and keep the place tidy.”

The man looked up at her and held out his hand, which shook involuntarily. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much help.”

“That’s no worse than me, so there’s no need to worry about that. I’m Martha, Martha Hudson, by the way.”

“John Watson. I also use a stick.” He indicated the cane by the side of his chair.

“I do too, at times. When it rains. So that’s not a problem either.”

John smiled, slightly dubiously. “If you’re sure? I wouldn’t mind having something to do for a few hours a day.”

“Excellent. I’m afraid I can only afford to pay minimum wage. But there’ll be plenty to eat and all the tea you can drink. Can you start tomorrow?”

***

Over the next few weeks John quickly settled into the routine of the café. He enjoyed talking to Sherlock, the idiosyncratic baker who produced the cakes and flans that the café served. He got used to the fact that on occasions Sherlock just didn’t turn up, in which case Mrs Hudson would do the baking, producing more traditional scones and quiche Lorraine, rather than the exotic concoctions that Sherlock baked. Gradually John noticed that he actually missed the baker when he was not in, and if Sherlock appeared later in the day his happiness markedly increased.

John also got to know the regular customers. One was a silver haired detective inspector who would call in two or three times a week for coffee. On those occasions Sherlock would appear from his domain in the back of the café and join the inspector at his table. The inspector always seemed happier when he left than when he had arrived and his puzzled expression had lifted.

Another regular customer was a tall man who carried a meticulously rolled umbrella. John soon learnt that if Sherlock suddenly disappeared he could expect this particular customer to walk through the door within the next five minutes. John also quickly became aware that the tray of cakes that were usually for sale on the counter also disappeared, to be replaced by a couple of slices of stale fruit cake. John had a feeling that these were the same slices every time.

John thoroughly enjoyed working in the café, so he felt extremely sad one afternoon when he had to tell Mrs Hudson that he would no longer be able to work there, as he had found work at one of the local doctor’s surgeries.

Mrs Hudson was delighted. “I’m so pleased you’ve found somewhere that you can use all your abilities,” she said.

“I shall miss you,” John replied. “All of you.”

“I have a new proposition for you,” she said. “You know that Sherlock and I live over the café. Sherlock really needs someone to share his flat, so it makes sense for you to move in with him. There’s a second bedroom up the stairs where you can start off, although I suspect you will find that you won’t be needing it in the long run.”

***

A few weeks after John had moved into 221B he wandered into the café’s kitchen. Living on site he continued to help out in the café on occasions when he wasn’t working. He watched as Sherlock put the finishing touches to a birthday cake.

“Who is that for?” he asked.

“Wait ten minutes and you’ll find out.”

As predicted, ten minutes later, a group of students came in, clearly celebrating the end of their exams. As soon as they were seated at a table Sherlock nodded to John to open the door and he went through carefully carrying the cake with its lighted candles.

The student in the centre of the celebrations looked up and gasped as Sherlock said

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY”


End file.
